The Woman in the Room
by letyourrainfall
Summary: "Not only did her body fall into death, but her heart was murdered a little bit more each day..."


The Woman in the Room  
  
The chilling echo of the wind ran past Chloe Sullivan's body as she lay against the cold, wet pile of blankets and clothes. Darkness consumed her thoughts as her breathing was the only sound in the small dank room. The air smelled of ashes and grime. Dry tears stained away the dirt that covered her face, her eyes trying to look at her hands but only feeling the goop from trying to find a window in the blank room.  
  
There was no one to save her this time, and there was no way out. Huddled in the corner Chloe's teeth chattered silently, her body shaking violently from the cold air in the room and the lack of food. A slot at the bottom of the door opened and a lump of soup fell onto her filthy bowl that was covered by things she really did not want to know.  
  
A tired whisper of a thank you passed her lips as she scrambled towards the door, crawling clumsily yet with hidden grace that had caught the fancy of a few men's attentions such a long time ago. She savored the bad taste; years of living in the small room had taken away her habits of eating and drinking only certain things. Now she lived on spoiled, cold soup that barely filled her stomach. This was her feast for the day. This is what kept her somewhat alive.  
  
After a few moments of letting her stomach beg for the rest she devoured the soup by pouring it down her throat. Wiping away the semi-warm soup off of her face with the back of her hand she reached over to her left to grab a tin bucket filled with her deposits from that day and the day before. Elegantly pinching her nose free from the clasp of her fingers as she pushed the smelly bucket away from herself she slowly moved towards the safety of what she thought of as her "Torch".  
  
Wet matches lay by her feet along with shreds of hay, paper, and a few sticks. She had tried last week to start a fire, a small one, but still a fire. While she had been frivolously working, rain started to fall through the crack of the roof made of sticks, wood, and packet dirt. Chloe ran a limp hand through her dirty, knotted hair. She couldn't even remember the last time she had seen the sun, yet alone what she looked like. Closing her eyes she tried to pick at the empty file in her mind as to why she was here.  
  
How long had she been in this prison again? Ten years? Or was it thirteen? Shaking her head as if it would wipe away her depressing thoughts she felt her heart pound heavily in her chest as she heard the sound of a strong low voice below her. Her hands clawed into the ground, digging furiously into the muddy filth. Dirt sprayed on her body as she slid her hands up and down in an effective motion. The seconds rolled into minutes, and minutes tiredly came to hours. Falling onto her back Chloe felt tears prick at her eyes. She was never getting out.  
  
But did she really want to be saved? Did she really want to see how her life had been taken away, her knowledge, and her brilliant work gone? No. she would rather die in this hell of a place then see how she had been stripped her life had been stripped away from her?  
  
Heavy footsteps stomped on the ground; up and down. Her breath caught in her chest as the steps stopped right before her door. The man she had learned to hate unlocked the door and peered in, smiling with a wicked charm that made her face green, her knuckles white against her fingers, and her stomach twirl rapidly. Snaking a hand over his head he walked towards her, bending down at her eye level menacingly, his eyes filled with spite and venom. Fear didn't take to her eyes, but her heart thudded heavily inside her chest. A graze of pity passed over his face in a flash, but to her knowledge she knew it was just a game.  
  
The wicked man hauled her up, gripping her up into the cold damp air with a glove covered hand. Shuffling her feet after him, she felt her face twist into a sobbing view. He called for his manservant to shackle her to the chains above her head. Chloe gazed up in somewhat terror at the reminder. Every year, every painful year brought her here.  
  
Soon the cracking of the whip filled the dead silent prison. Blood trickled like a river down Chloe's body, her back covered in scars, blood, and bruises. Torn flesh pricked at her neck and arms. The gruff manservant slid her swollen wrists out of the chains and watched as she barely managed to stand up. A cry fell out of her lips before she fell to the ground in pain, blacking out as her head collided with the concrete.  
  
Searing pain greeted the beaten woman as she cracked her eyes open slowly. A shot of pain slivered through her body as she tried to sit up. This happened every year. So why did it seem like everyday?  
  
Closing her eyes, she slid back to sleep. The woman knew she would always be in this room, and would never see the sun. On that day not only did the woman in the room fall into a deadly slumber, but as her body ceased to exist so did her heart. 


End file.
